Aftermath of a Night as a Puppet
by Shieldage
Summary: With its huge number of wedding chapels, getting drunk in Vegas with is never a good idea, especially when you're half your normal size.


BtVS/Angel created by Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Muppets by Jim Henson Productions.

One of several post-'Angel' stories (therefore spoilers for the finale) I'm working on linking together.

So, in the fine tradition of 'Woke up in Vegas' pairings... ;)

* * *

I woke up and was surprised to feel a warm body laying in the bed beside me. Breathing, fortunately.

I was smelling perfume, overlaid with fluff, when I remembered Willow's spell and the state I'd been in for the past week.

It seemed it'd finally worn off.

It also seemed I'd gotten horribly wasted my last night as a puppet. I could tell from the hangover.

Bleary eyed, I swung my feet around, sat on the edge of the bed and, after a moment of fumbling, turned on the bedside lamp.

I was shocked to see a marriage certificate and a packet of photos on top of the small table.

Whatever the body-mass-to-liquor ratio is for stuffed folk, I'd gone way over it.

I inhaled, breathing deeply, and concentrated.

Yes, it was fairly definite that I still had my soul.

Good. Exhale. One less worry.

I lifted up the packet, gently, but the photos still spilled all over the table.

As the memories of last night came back to me, I took solace in a flashback.

* * *

I woke up, to see an immense blinding light.

"Oh, Sorry," someone said, as they adjusted the hanging light over the... _operating table!_

"Wha? Wha? Where am I?"

"Calm yourself Angel," Willow stated. "I'm afraid I missed all but the last few minutes of your Final Battle, and..."

"Dad, it was the only thing she could do," Connor said, looking huge from that angle. "Anything else and you'd be dust right now."

Oh, my God, I can't feel my hands!

Oh, my God, my spine's been torn out, I...

Am at a very odd angle...

I'm a severed head! "AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. I just reactivated the spell that turned you into a puppet. You're okay, we just have to sow you a new body, a layer at a time. It's gonna be alright."

I passed out

##

I sat at the bar a few days later, drowning my sorrows in alcohol.

Willow had said it was tricky, that with so much new material required, the spell couldn't be taken off immediately or I'd be only part flesh.

When everything had been converted properly, the spell would reverse and I'd be back to my normal human appearance.

She said that'd take anywhere between three days to a week.

I'd wanted to get away from everyone I knew, so I'd booked a hotel room in Las Vegas.

Looking back on it now, that probably hadn't been a very good idea.

She sat down next to me, bought me another drink and began to grouse about her boyfriend of_ fifteen_ years, and of his fear of commitment.

I explained how I've laid my life on the line, so many times, for the things that I believe in.

Also not a good idea...

* * *

So there I sat, on the edge of my hotel room bed, looking at the wedding photos of 'Mr. Liam Connor Angel & Mrs. Janette Barbara Piggy-Angel'

The most striking one was my puppet-self in a rented tux, holding hands with my blushing bride, who... at that moment, beside me, was sitting up and pulling the covers tight over her ample chest.

"Oh, my God!" she yelled in horror. "You're a human!"

If her hangover was half as bad as mine, I'm surprised she noticed.

"Oh, my God," I answered weakly, not turning around. "You're a pig."

##

"Worse yet, we're married," I said, holding up the certificate.

"No, no, I do not believe this! This is all your fault!" Mrs. Piggy-Angel yelled, grabbing the paper from my hand. She read it through and groaned. "Hmph. You should have told me you were human."

I took a second to look her over. Considering my recent diet, she smelled vaguely of food.

"Listen, I was drinking to forget. Not that I was human, that I was a puppet. It was just a spell cast to save my life."

"Well, you don't have to go around breaking a woman's heart... Please at least tell me that we didn't get married by an Elvis impersonator. That would just be so... tacky."

"No, I can safely say that we weren't," I answered truthfully as I looked through the Polaroids of the space-themed chapel.

##

In those photos, I saw something which truly made me angry. My demon fought to surface. I checked myself, managed to keep my face in control, but my eyes had probably turned yellow.

"I can't believe this!" I yelled, nearly tearing the hateful image in half.

"What is it?" she asked, hurriedly pulling her clothes over her short and well-built body.

She was well-proportioned for her height. The night before when I'd been drunk and about her height she'd had a much greater impact on me.

"Well, I'm not a scifi fan-boy and lady," I said as I waved the picture around. "You don't look the type."

"Well, I did use to act in a show called 'Pigs in Space'" she said huffily, annoyed at having lost track of the conversation.

"Whatever," I snapped at her, then I caught myself. I'd been taking my anger out on her and... "I'm sorry, but I trusted him, I..."

I handed her the pictures and continued to explain as I pulled on my clothes. "Even drunk, I wouldn't pick that place. The black-haired man right there? The one with his back to the camera? That's Xander Harris. He was supposed to keep an eye out for me, so I wouldn't have to go through this alone... I trusted him, and not only does he _let_ me get married in Vegas, he picks out the chapel!"

After a few more hurried words, I threw open the door that connected my suite to Xander's, only to see the one-eyed man himself standing there, about to knock.

Before he or l could speak a word, Mrs Piggy-Angel had launched herself forward.

She executed an incredible high kick - "HI-YA!" - which landed firmly in Xander's crotch.

He sank limply to the floor. If he still had both eyes, they'd have crossed.

Before my wife, the puppet-pig, could begin to gloat, she was suddenly tackled by an invisible force.

Of course, I leaped to her rescue.

Everybody began to roll around the floor in a wild tussle of arms and legs

... Some of them invisible.

Eventually, the panting Xander was able to gasp out a command to stop.

Well, the 'fight' ended abruptly.

"Hey, I know what you're thinking," Xander stated. "But I was at least as drunk as you. I'm sorry. I've got to introduce my new wife."

"Don't tell me you married a storm demon?"

"No... Marci Ross."

"The invisible girl who tried to kill, well, everybody?"

"Yeah, but the government gave her some training, she's not that bad now..."

Concentrating, I could just barely make out the glint of a ring on an invisible finger.

I sized up Xander's new wife and my own.

_You know what? _I thought to myself._ I'm better off._

When she had enough energy to talk, my wife let out a breathless squeal: "Well, _Angel-honey_, aren't you going to introduce me?"

After 'proper' introductions were made, the new Mrs. Piggy-Angel turned to where she thought Marci *must* have been standing and asked: "One question... Who does your hair?"

##

This was going to be a long day.


End file.
